Change
by a red burn
Summary: Nameless for a time, they clung to a precarious balance between past and future; the people they'd become versus the people they had once been. NickyJason. CHAPTER 7 NOW UP AFTER FOREVER.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Change  
Summary: Nameless for a time, they clung to a precarious balance between past and future; the people they'd become versus the people they had once been.  
Category: NJ  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: So, this first chapter is somewhat huh worthy. This is NOT a past fic, it's set AFTER Ultimatum, HOWEVER there will be bits of their past. It may seem confusing at first as the past parts will be out of order but everything will fall in place quickly. Everything post Ultimatum is set in a straight timeline. Please just stick around ;)

I need to send out a huge thanks to Miks and Grimorie for all the help with this (creative differences aside LOL) ;)

Also, this is unbeta'd.

-

Her bed had never felt like a board of needles before, and at the moment she felt like every inch of her body was being pricked with little spikes as she tossed and turned, trying to sleep. She had no illusions she was going to drift off anytime soon, but at least she could pretend.

_Unbelievable._

That was ridiculous, she knew it. It was ridiculous to lose sleep over something like this.

She puffed, blowing hair out of her face. She had already told herself to forget it, to let it go. Why the hell couldn't she just sleep if she had already made up her mind? There was no point in losing her sleep over something that was already decided. Right?

Right. Because she wasn't going. She wasn't moving an inch from her bed, and she wasn't going to waste another minute on the subject. It was late, it was dark and she was tired and she was going to sleep.

She turned on her side and closed her eyes, keeping them tightly shut. And instead of the blank darkness she hoped for, the back of her eyelids were filled with images of skin and moans and heavy breathing and lips and eyes that stared down into her core and made every hair on her body rise in both anticipation and fear.

She turned harshly on her back, pulling the covers over her head and pressing her hands over her face. Maybe she should just choke to death and end her misery. When all the attempt did was force more images on her brain and feelings on her skin –because really how in hell would she _ever_ get Bourne off her system was as mystery- she threw them away and let out a low shriek of frustration as she pulled at her hair.

_Go__ddamn Jason Bourne to hell and back._

In fact, she thought as she threw her legs to the side, she was going to tell him that to his face. Opening the top drawer of her bedside table, she grabbed the wrinkled square of paper and read it over again for the hundredth time. The words scribbled in blue ink were already blurred from so much handling, after she had discovered it inside the coat of her jacket the previous day. The little note held nothing more than a date and time, but, _Christ_, it had been enough to burn her skin. It came along with fancy keycard she knew belong to a fancy hotel.

Ok, she thought, she was going to end this once and for all. She was going to meet him, face him and tell him that was that. Whatever it was that they had started in the safe house wasn't going to get anywhere and that was final. They'd be both out of their minds if they even considered letting it get further than what they had done, and a death wish was something she did not have.

Crazy, she kept telling herself as she put on jeans and a shirt and covered her hair with a scarf. Crazy and idiotic and stupid and, God, what was she doing with herself? She froze halfway pulling on her boots and let her weight drop on the bed as she sat and considered. What if it was a test? The thought suddenly entered her mind. What if it was a test and by going there she was proving to them how weak and how inefficient she was, letting her emotions drive her the way they were doing, failing to do her job?

She shook her head at how ridiculous it all sounded by the time she was done thinking it. No, that couldn't be possible. Whatever was going on between her and Jason couldn't be faked; that much she knew. What he felt, whatever it was, was genuine, and his intentions for this meet tonight were anything but professional.

Which led to unprofessional thoughts.

Stop it Nicky, she scolded herself, you're going to get yourself killed for this.

And it was honest, anyway, the fear she felt. Every time someone looked at her, every time Conklin directed words at her, she felt as if she had this attraction to their operative written all over her face, and the knowledge –or lack there of- of what could be done to her if anybody found out was enough to make her look the other way and ignore the trembling in her stomach every time Jason looked at her.

It was a dangerous game they were playing no matter how careful Bourne was trying to be.

Nicky groaned and dropped her head to her knees, wrapping her hands around her blond mane of hair and cursed herself for being unable to control what she felt and thought.

She could deal with this, she decided. She could go to him and tell him they were done and with time this... thing would just disappear and as a bonus she'd keep her life. But she should be decent enough to tell him to his face.

Yes, she could do that, it seemed very reasonable. So with that thought in mind, she stood, fixed the scarf on her head, put on some clothes and grabbed her things, flying out of the door. If she hurried she could make it just in the nick of time.

-

The hotel wasn't as fancy as she had expected, but it was classy enough to ensure them invisibility if it was required, and big enough to have anyone slip in and out without anybody noticing. Private elevators and employees that were paid to forget the guests by guests' convenience. Add that to Bourne's skills and by the next day there'd be no trace either of them had ever been there.

By the time she had finished her assessing she had found herself facing the door of the hotel room written on the wrinkled square of paper she had yet to flush down the toilet. And was suddenly frozen down to her toes.

In a moment of clarity she asked herself, not for the first time, what the hell she was doing. But, Nicky reminded herself, she was here only to ensure things like _this_ wouldn't happen again, ever.

Inserting the keycard in the slot, she waited for the green light to flick and slowly opened the door. The hesitancy suddenly kicked in, and she froze again, hand on doorknob, door halfway open. This could be the biggest mistake of her life. This seemed like an old black and white spy movie, or maybe something out of James Bond. Young damsel risking her breath to meet her lover in the dark of night.

She almost tuned around and left.

_Shit, Nicolette, you're already here, you can't get any deeper_.

Taking a deep breathe she pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting the heavy wooden board behind her soundlessly. The room was cast in a dim glow from the moon outside, not a single artificial light on, giving her the feeling of an empty alleyway. She shivered at the thought as the hairs on the back of her neck raised in attention. She knew he was in there somewhere, watching her with those eyes trained to learn every movement his pray made.

"I didn't think you'd come."

She didn't even flinch at the voice, her eyes already adjusted to the lightening, finding him coming from somewhere to her right. "I almost didn't." Honestly.

He was closer to her than she'd have liked, his breath almost teasing her skin, his hands gently removing the scarf covering her blond hair and she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine all the way to her toes – and this time it had nothing to do with fear.

"I only came-" She started but the words caught in her throat along with her breath as his hands untucked her blouse and splattered over her ribcage, warm and rough and gentle. She forced herself to think. "I only came to tell you we're not going this."

"Doing what?" He murmured, lips finding the sensitive skin just under her earlobe and she closed her eyes.

_God, please, give me strength._

"This." She whispered and desperately wanted to step away, to get out and not let it go any further, but her brain had abandoned her and her body had betrayed her as she held a fistful of his shirt to pull him close - and give her balance, but she refused to acknowledge the last part. Jason Bourne did not make her weak on the knees.

When his hands slip up, leaving a trail of fire, thumbs resting just below the side of her breasts every coherent thought flew out of the window, leaving her brain working on emergency power only and her body reacting in ways se never expected it to.

This wasn't what she had come here for, the thought crossed her mind as his lips found hers and his fingers unclasped her bra. Her hand tightened around his shirt in reaction and her other hand was suddenly on his shoulder, sliding to the back his neck. Then her blouse was off her shoulders and her jeans unbuttoned and her lips aching and her skin flaming.

And suddenly she felt so awkward and shy and embarrassed. She was so inexperienced on this little part of life; boys and men and romance and relationships and even something as simple as sex. She wasn't a complete moron when it came to it but she had never put much thought into it and now, as Jason reduced her to a brainless vegetable how could she even compete in the same game?

This was wrong, this should not be happening and she knew she should have stopped when her breath caught in her throat. When he pulled his mouth away enough to let air in, she came to her sense enough to open her eyes and see him staring at her even through dazed mind, watching, hands on her hips, fingers rubbing the skin, lips burning and her hand still grasping his shirt as if she could fall down or he'd disappear if she wasn't holding on.

"You were saying?"

Huh? His voice whispered right beside her ear and it wasn't enough to bring her back to the living land. As her brain cleared, she realized she was standing in the middle of the room, half naked, holding on to him, his scent overloading her senses, her blood flooding her system, pumping faster than she thought it could be possible. She could feel her heart beating in her ears. And Jason Bourne was… talking? She could hardly remember her own name, let alone hat she had been saying.

She blinked a couple of times and caught him smirking; that tiny little smirk he saved for when he wanted to be evil, the one she didn't notice until several months after working with him and learning every gesture he made, every movement, every tiny little raise of the corner of his lips, every tiny little thing.

_Bastard._

And then, before she could think or do anything else, he had captured her lips again, gently forcing them apart with his tongue, his hands tightening on her hips and pressing her body against his, then moving down, to the lose waistband of her pants, his fingers teasing as they brushed just below, just low enough to drive her crazy, then moving up brushing the sides of her body until they reached her breasts –and barely touched them.

She wondered briefly if his training had taught him to have so much control even in situations like these. She was nearly passing out from pleasure and he was hardly touching her. And he was fully clothed too.

Nicky slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled away long enough to jerk it over his head without any resistance from him. The black material fell to the floor in a heap at her feet and she was immediately surrounded by the warmth and the feel of his skin directly on hers. And it was enough to send her hormones on frenzy and her brain to shut down.

She didn't know much about him; anything about the man before Treadstone, but she knew he fought and he hurt and he did things only a broken man would be capable of doing, but his skin was so smooth to the touch. As she slid her hands up and down his chest and back she could feel the bumps of scars of a man who had more than his share of pain, but his skin felt wonderful, warm and soft and tight and she could feel his muscles flexing under her digits, sending goose bumps on her skin.

When she felt the bed hit the back of her knees she wondered when they had started moving, when they had made their way to the bedroom. She didn't panic like she knew she should have, or didn't stop kissing him, or running her hands along his torso, or even thought about the consequences. She had already come this far telling herself she wouldn't, there was no point in stopping things now. She'd not only make both of them sexually frustrated, but she'd never be able to face him again, or Conklin, or maybe even herself.

So she might as well enjoy Jason Bourne and pray it'd be worth the price she'd have to pay eventually. Perhaps if she did this just this time then maybe she'd be able to get him –his eyes, his smell, his touch- out of her system once and for all.

-

She had expected this to be sort of hit and run, to wake up in the morning to a dent in the bed and cold sheets and room wiped clean, instead she had been waken in the middle of the night by kisses on her shoulder and fingertips on her breasts. As inappropriate as the situation was, she still couldn't hold back the lazy smile that stretched over her lips.

She opened her eyes and shifted in bed to lie on her back, making herself comfortable as he slid his hand across her stomach, to the other side of her body, thumbnail rubbing her hip, sliding dangerously lower. His eyes were staring into her again, deep and blue, having lost the gleam they held as he had pleased her, and it always unnerved Nicky, the intense way he'd watch. Something in her belly tightened.

She wondered what it was that pulled her to him like a magnet, so strong and unstoppable, so different from all the other assets. Or any other man she had ever met.

He leaned down and kissed her softly and slowly, just teasing her lips. Kissing her like it was the only thing in the world.

"We're going to get ourselves killed for this." She said as he pulled back and her voice carried heavily in the room, the weight of them didn't fail to fall on both their shoulders. He knew that better than she did but they had still been selfish enough to let it happen. Or maybe brave enough to let it happen. Who knew? It didn't change the fact that she had fallen in bed with an operative, a trained killer, someone who could snap her in two if so ordered, someone who worked for an agency that sent him to kill and be invisible and nobody was to know about it. And it didn't change the fact she'd do it again.

One hand came up, brushing blond hair from her face, fingers grazing her skin and burning. "Only if they find out." He whispered just before brushing her lips with his, then kissing the side of her neck and Nicky's brain threatened to shut down again.

"Jason." She said his name, turning her head so his lips wouldn't be touching her skin anymore. This was serious. He may have been a trained government assassin who could do just about anything, but she wasn't. She was just Nicky Parsons, Logistics. She looked away. "This is not a game. This is serious."

"Nicky," He pressed his palm to the side of her face and turned her head, forcing her to look at him. His hand so big against her cheek. "They aren't going to find out."

"We're different." She whispered and forced the pain in the back of her eyes away. She wasn't going to cry and she wasn't going to let his words sting. "I'm not- I can't protect myself against them."

"They're not going to find out." He repeated, and he was serious, he was dead serious. His face was firm, his lips a tense line and his eyes went just a bit dark. And she suddenly believed him. He wouldn't risk both their lives just for the pleasure of getting in bed; she tried to assure herself, not without making sure at least _he_ wouldn't end up at the dead end of a gun. God, she was pathetic.

Not often Nicky had doubts, but when she did, they flooded her violently, and she hated it.

He kissed her again, his hand moving from her hip to the sensitive skin just below her navel and her eyes fluttered shut. In the dazed blackness of her eyes and brain she started forgetting the reason she shouldn't be doing this, but _this_ wasn't something easily fought against. She had tried for months but it still haunted her and ultimately made her finally fall in bed with him.

She tried to grasp at the thoughts and reasons to make her get up and get out, but his hands where in places, and her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan escaped her lips, the sound muffled by his mouth and her rationalization died somewhere between pleasure and fear until she finally let herself slip and let everything swirl in her head.

She could just pretend this was perfectly right, and the kind of reaction she had to him and how she became completely helpless was okay. She could pretend there was no danger lurking outside, at least for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Florence, Italy.  
**  
She came to learn the worst part of it all was the loneliness. It struck her like a slap on the face when she realized the hole in her gut had nothing to do with fear. Being alone was something she knew and was used to; she had spent most of her life escaping from a dysfunctional home, throwing herself in books and studies instead of rebelling. Her time in college wasn't filled with dates and parties and friends but with learning.

It wasn't luck that had gotten her a job with the CIA shortly after her early college graduation. It had all paid off it the end. Or so she had thought until two years ago.

It had never bothered her before, the loneliness; her mind had always been so full and her days always so erratic with work and school that she didn't have time to worry about trivial things, and it wasn't until Jason Bourne that she realized that what she had once considered to be second plan had actually become a vital part in her life.

And how hard it had been to control personal and professional sides and keep them from crashing down on her.

And she never felt lonely. Or gave it any thought.

Now with nothing but time she had no other choice but to think and feel and regret.

It was hard enough to still be grieving. Even though her life had fallen completely off its axle over two years ago, the pain of losing something so important still managed to sneak in through the cracks.

But the past was in the past, Nicky tried to assure herself, there was nothing she could do, or nobody she could blame but herself.

She shook her head and took in a deep breath of cold air to clear her mood. Brooding about her current situation didn't help a bit, especially because she didn't regret anything. She didn't regret going to Paris, or meeting Jason Bourne, or falling in love with him, and she regretted even less helping him. And she'd do it all over again without a thought. So there was no point in brooding.

She had already lost two years of her life being miserable, on what-ifs and thoughts of Jason and Marie, and jealousy and anger. She had stayed angry for so long it started shattering her soul and breaking the young and frightened girl that had once been face to face with an assassin with amnesia. That girl had grown stronger and managed to set her life halfway back on track. She certainly could do it again. New identity, new life. She could start over.

_It should have been me._

No, she told herself, she was not going to go there. She had forbidden herself once and she wasn't going to allow it to consume her again.

Pulling the collar of her coat closer, she hid her mouth from the chilly night air and hurried her step. She just wanted to get home, shower, eat, hit the sheets. Wake up, she thought, wake up to another miserable day, have lunch, go to work, get home and start it all over again. Until she felt she was getting too comfortable and decided it was time to hop cities again.

It hadn't been so bad at the beginning, really. She had still been settling, the adrenaline and paranoia pumping in her system 24/7; worrying about her survival left little room to actually assess her new reality. Worrying about the present kept her from thinking about the future –and the past. Unfortunately those times had gone, and as days passed and she started having room to breath, she also had room to think.

She couldn't stop depression from teasing now and again.

Getting a part time job was risky -getting any kind of job was risky- but she needed something to occupy her mind. She hadn't needed the money as Jason had made sure she'd be okay if the moment she had to run ever came, but she needed something to do with her time instead of thinking and worrying and blaming Jason Bourne.

_Shit_

There was no point going there again. She was beyond glad and relieved he was still alive -in fact it had eased her mind- and cursing him for her current predicament made her feel selfish and guilty, but she couldn't stop the feelings and thoughts.

He had gone with Marie, he had hidden with Marie for two years, but had abandoned her in a bus station alone, to look after herself. He had hardly known Marie, but she… She cut off the thought. No need for that. But another one managed to sneak in: _And Marie is dead, and you're not_. He had a real life threat to fight against. It's not like he was going off to Bahamas without you, she tried to reason.

He didn't even remember you.

Still, the resentment was there and the nagging wouldn't go away.

She sighed in relief when her building came into view. Her thoughts had decided to flood her brain tonight, more so than usual and getting home was the best option she had.

She took a careful look around before entering and locking the entrance door safely behind her. With quick steps she jogged up the stairs to the top floor. There was a door to the roof and if push came to shove, she'd have another alternative exit right next to her own door. Picking a top floor apartment seemed the smartest idea.

Entering her small, but somewhat cozy, apartment she shifted her grocery bags and removed her coat, hanging it by the door; bending down to take her boots off, she let them fall to the floor, abandoning them where she stood.

The floorboards were cold and she curled her toes against it, but she welcomed the feeling, as it made her attention shift from her current thoughts -even if for a moment. Walking barefoot to the kitchen, she emptied the bags she was carrying, putting away the few items she had bought, and went straight to the bathroom.

She'd take a shower with burning hot water, clear her mind, drink some of the wine she had bought and by God she was going to sleep like a rock tonight.

Her plan fell flat on the hard floor when the hot drops hit her skin and instead of blanking her mind, they relaxed her enough to let everything she had been trying to fight against all day crash violently down on her. The tears were heavy and hot and mixed with drops of water –at least she could pretend she wasn't crying, pretend the dam inside her hadn't opened. She didn't have to pretend to anybody else, so it was easy.

Later she remembered crying was good. It cleaned her up inside and after it was all out of her system the heavy weight on her chest lifted and the clouds in her mind cleared. There had been days like this before, when crying until the hiccups took over seemed to be the only way out and she knew there would be more after.

Jason Bourne had lied to her when he told her it would get easier. It didn't. Maybe she was getting used to watching over back, to be careful but it certainly wasn't getting any easier to live.

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body, she told herself again she was going to get through this. She'd just change and move again and hope these feelings would be left behind along with everything else. It had reached a point where she couldn't even recognize her own reflection. Her brown eyes were always empty and sad and she looked haggard and worn out and her short chopped black her had definitely seen better days.

She hated black. She was sick of it and the color looked horrible on her so she decided she was going back to blond. Make a change on herself, maybe it'd lift her mood some. Make her go back, back way in the past when fingers ran down into her long blond tresses, whispering things into her ear. No, no, no. She shook her head. The fact that Jason Bourne had liked her hair had nothing to do with her decision.

Just like it hadn't been him the reason why she had cut it short, dyed it brown and added some highlights just to keep some of the blond, shortly after he had left, after the disgrace that happened in the safe house in Paris, after she had been struck harder than she could ever imagine. She had thought the same back then, maybe changing would help her forget Jason and forget he was probably with Marie, forget he didn't even remember her.

It hadn't helped much though, not really.

Maybe she'd get luckier this second time around.

She sighed and looked herself at the mirror again. Who was she kidding?

**-**

**Port Elizabeth, South Africa.**

It hadn't been easy, really, showing Nicky off like that but truth was she'd have a better chance away from him. Even with Blackbriar exposed (something he wasn't really expecting by that point) they were still in danger, Nicky more so than he. And the fact that she had put herself in that position to help him certainly didn't go by unnoticed. And she had done pretty well for herself too, while in Morocco. He had seen Nicky Parsons was capable of watching after herself, and while it wasn't a perfect survival plan it had been pretty damn good of her under the circumstances, including the breadcrumbs she had left for him.

It made it a lot easier for him to leave the bus station and Nicky behind. Even though his heart had been squeezed so hard, even though he had been this close to calling out for her. Knowing she'd be ok and better off without him allowed him to turn around and go before he could change his mind completely and risk her life even more by keeping her with him. He didn't really want to _keep_ her, just wanted to make sure she'd be safe, it had nothing to do with the fact he actually _wanted_ her around. So he kept telling himself so.

He had wanted to keep Marie around too and she had died for it, he wasn't going to make the same mistake again. It didn't mean the reasons were the same but the results would certainly be.

He had loved Marie and a part of his heart had been burned to ashes along with the things that were hers, that connected her to him. It had been more painful than waking up in a boat and realize he had no memories; than learning he was an assassin; than remembering the faces of everyone he ever killed.

Leaving Nicky at the station had made him feel guilty and bad and something that almost made him take her back, which he'd probably have done had he not turned his back on her.

Now every time he closed his eyes he could see her. See Marie's smile, the face of the people he killed, brown eyes staring back at him through a mirror; everything blending and swirling in his head, forming the image of a blond young woman, brown eyes pleading, shouting angry words he couldn't understand.

It had started when his eyes had found hers in a dirty mirror, in the bathroom of a shabby motel room in Tangier. Something had clicked in his mind as his blue eyes were frozen on her brown ones; familiarity, he realized. Something inside him saying he recognized that look, the exact same look, but nothing else had come with it, no images, no flashes of memory.

But then it came when he fell into the river. The impact squeezing all the air from his lungs, the blood flow to his brain slowing, and cold water freezing his bones. And then it had flashed, amidst the fight his body was throwing to survive, forcing his brain from shutting down. Disheveled hair, her brown eyes wide and scared and pleading, _Please, understand_, shouting his name, and saying words he couldn't make out.

He had known even then it had been a memory, as small and confusing and somewhat insignificant as it seemed to be. While he had had no recollection of her at all before, now he had a flash of a sad and angry Nicky Parsons so many years younger looking him in the same way an older version of her had looked, blond hair replaced with black.

Jason fixed the backpack on his shoulder and quickened his pace, as he shook his head. There was no point in thinking about this now. What was done was done and he couldn't go back. And right now he was choosing not to. All he could do was hope Nicky was okay and making the best of her life. _On the run life. _Well, they were in the same boat on this subject.

The problem was; he couldn't take that moment, that flash of brown eyes and blond hair out of his head. That snippet of memory that insisted to remain in his brain no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. With this state of apparent calm he had been under for the past few months all the things he tried to ignore kept nagging at him.

Sometimes it was Marie who'd break through his thoughts when he wasn't expecting, getting him by surprise, the pain and guilty flooding him; sometimes he'd focus on something else so these feelings wouldn't come through and the memories he had made with her would be welcomed. He had avenged her death, but it didn't make it any better.

He had tried to let go of everything, to get away from the CIA, Treadstone, Blackbriar, Nicky, and even Marie, and try to live his life a little, rest his mind for a while, but nothing worked. He had no real purpose, nobody anymore. Trying to enjoy life while he could, to get off the grid seemed to be pointless, nothing more than just a way to keep himself alive. Existing but not living. Existing and processing every single information his brain had been trained to process.

He couldn't walk down a street without gathering data from everywhere and everyone. There was no gun to weight in his pocket, only assessing 24/7/365 to weight on his mind. He had gotten used to the automatic response to what surrounded him, looking for every possible exit, learning every way of escaping, calculating how to cause as little collateral damage as possible; all in the short spam of a few seconds. It was a curse he had to live with.

A curse that had saved his life more times than he'd like to admit.

Readjusting his backpack again, Jason took a haste turn to the right, making his way to a less crowded street, in the opposite direction of the tram station. He had been planning to get out of South Africa and make his way up to Italy. It had been months since his fall into East River and Landy's exposure of Blackbriar and no one had bothered him, and even though he kept himself on the low as if nothing had changed, some of the weight on his chest had lifted.

Everyone involved with Blackbriar was either dead, missing or behind bars. He was finally free of it. He had felt, for a little while, that he was finally free of it, and all his effort now should be put into remembering who he really was; bringing memories back into the big chunks of blank in his brain. Especially before Treadstone.

Jason quickened even more his step and harshly turned a corner. Quickly scanning the alley, he looked for places to hide and alternative exits, and noticed the red door in the far end. Moving to it, he found it unlocked. As he stepped inside, and closed the door behind him, he caught a glimpse of a man turning into the alley.

The room he entered was dimly lit with lights too low to be meant to stay on. It led to an empty and narrow corridor where a set of stairs could be seen. Quickly he realized he had just entered through the backdoor of a building.

Dropping his backpack to the floor behind the door, he placed himself in front of it; away enough to catch by surprise whoever was coming in. A second later he saw the knob being slowly turned and stood in alert. The door cracked open wide enough for a gunned hand to pass through but the action of knocking it wide open was broken by Jason pushing it closed hard, pressing the hand between the door and threshold.

He was able to repeat the action once more before the door was pushed open hard enough to knock Jason back a couple of steps. He recovered in time to take a hold of the operative's hand and move it away from his face just as a bullet flew, echoing loudly in the empty corridor.

The sound of footsteps and shouting didn't stop either man as they exchanged kicks and blows, and neither did the approaching sound of sirens as Jason knocked the other man to the ground, grabbing the gun and pointing it at the panting fallen man.

"Who sent you?" He yelled, hitting the operative on the head with the back of the gun hard enough to make him dazed but no unconscious.

The man groaned and shook his head, and tried feebly to get up, which only got him a kick to the stomach.

"Who sent you?" Jason asked again, and again got no response.

This time the sound of running footsteps and the shout of the South African police calling out caught his attention and Jason looked up in time to see the crowd that had gathered making room for the cops.

He quickly knocked the agent unconscious, dissembled the gun, patted the man's pockets grabbing everything he found and threw his backpack over his shoulder, leaving through the back door just as the police had finally passed through. Once he was outside, he was already out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. It had more to do with me not knowing where to take this chapter than lack of time (as if). When I accepted my muse wasn't going to cooperate in any possible way, I just decided to move on to more important bits. This was supposed to be chapter 4 instead of 3 but alas.

I have 2 more chapters done, so hopefully updating won't take so much time again.

---

He stared at the print out in his hands wondering why the hell this was happening all over again, what else they wanted. The image of Nicky Parsons staring back at him seemed to be making the same question. He was somewhat relieved though, because the photo used on Nicky's wanted frame was the same from her former CIA ID; short brown hair with the blond streaks, an expression of seriousness. They didn't have any images of a black chopped haired Nicky, which meant that hopefully they hadn't found any clues of her yet.

His own though was updated at best. His photo placed right next to Nicky's had been of two weeks ago, as he boarded the tram to Port Elizabeth, the camera recording the comings and goings at the general area of the check in counter.

How had they found him so easily while Nicky was still covered? Had they looked for her at all yet? And why was he so thankful they hadn't gotten to her first? In any case, he had gotten away and he was going to get to Nicky before anyone else did. He just hoped she was being careful and watching out for all the signs he had told her to watch out for. Nicky was smart, he just had to remind himself that she could take care of herself. Besides, the simple fact she was still safely hidden should be a give away of how well she could do it.

Jason rubbed his eyes and folded the print out, putting it inside his pocket; taking out the cell phone he had retrieved from the operative he flipped it open and started scanning through it. It was pretty empty except for a handful of coded text messages; no calls received or made. He had tried dialing the number the messages had come from only be greeted with a dead signal. His only option on this matter was to wait for the phone to ring, but no luck yet.

He figured he had only two options, either wait until the cell phone rang, or to get in touch with the CIA, namely Pamela Landy. The former could never happen and the latter wasn't something he particularly wanted to do, especially not knowing for certain if the CIA was indeed involved in this, which, in this case, the smartest idea was the stay clear of any contact with those people.

Jason pressed his hand to his eyes and sighed. He supposed that finding Nicky was the only viable option at the moment.

He had to find her, and find her _fast_.

~*~

The nerves along her spine tightened as she felt eyes on her. The moment she left the bookstore, the door closing with the soft ringing of bells, she had felt something was off but couldn't quite figure out what, but as she started making her way home, moving carefully among the crowd she could feel she was being watched and unlike the that faint sense that something was wrong that she had been feeling for the past few days, this sensation that there were eyes on her was strong and intense and it made her antsy.

She had to get lost, that was the first thought to cross her mind as she turned a corner and went the opposite way of her apartment. She needed to get lost and get away, go to the bus station and grab the bag she had stored in a locker with all her passports and fake IDs and money.

_Shit_, her computer was at her place. Nicky cursed herself for being so goddamn careless to the point of being caught by surprise. She wasn't supposed to stay so long in the same place and now she was going to pay for it if what she was feeling was more than just paranoia. She knew better than to make herself comfortable so soon after she became someone on the run. Blackbriar exposed had done very little to easy her mind and she still had made it easy.

Now she had been found a day before she was leaving town.

Nicky tried to keep her step even, just someone going home from work, enjoying the end of the day as if no life danger was lurking somewhere in the dark. She went past the news stand she often stopped by for a magazine or a newspaper and crossed the street, walking another block until she reached the municipal market and got in. At this time, with people coming out of work, the market was bubbling with life and she'd have a good chance of disappearing.

She realized she was starting to panic when she saw an assassin's face on everyone she looked at, when she recoiled in fear and changed directions every time someone looked at her. Panicking was bad, she tried telling herself, it was going to blind her and make her even more vulnerable.

She tried to control her breathing and the adrenaline as she started bumping into people and bringing attention to herself. She knew by now whoever was following her was obvious to her distress and acknowledge that she was being followed, and again she cursed herself.

_Ok, Nicky, calm down. Take a breath. __Think._

God, it was another four blocks to her apartment and seventeen to the bus station, each to one direction. She couldn't go back to her place for her laptop then double back to the station and grab her bag.

Nicky turned to the aisle on the left, finding herself in a hubbub of people. She tried to squeeze herself through the crowd instead of going back the other way and possibly getting face to face to her pursuer. Finding the other side of the crowd considerably thinner she quickly made her way to the end of the aisle and turned right. Maybe she could go to the restroom and get out through the window.

She shook her head; the window was too small to get through. Nicky readjusted the strap of her purse that started falling off her shoulder and kept on walking ahead.

_The storage room_, it suddenly came to her. They had a door on one of the aisles that led down to a room with a garage door for the incoming truck of supplies. She could find it and get out. In her panic, Nicky couldn't remember where she had seen the storage door, so she stopped, getting inside a café, resting against a wall and taking a deep breath. She just needed to calm down a little.

She turned her head, leaning ahead to peek outside and look for anyone that didn't fit. God, everyone seemed to be a danger and to be part of the normal crowd at the same time. Anyone that threw her a glance seemed to be a threat.

She leaned back in and closed her eyes, trying to calm down again and picture the aisle in her head. Slowly it started coming back to her; there was a flower shop to her left and a fruit stand on her right and right next to it there was a door with the Italian warning for authorized personnel only. And then it came to her. Right above there was a brass sign hanging from the ceiling indicating that was corridor C4.

She opened her eyes and let out a breath of relief. Readjusting the straps of her purse again, Nicky leaned her head outside again, looking for the sign indicating where she was: C3.

She sent a silent prayer to God. She just needed to get over the next aisle and get out. She just needed to make it that far. But the moment she stepped outside a hand grabbed her, taking a firm hold of her upper arm in a way she was familiar with, but her breath stopped halfway to her lungs, a scream caught in her throat and her entire body froze in fear.

When a second hand came to her other arm Nicky instinctively started struggling and stopping a second later when her brain finally registered the voice saying her name. As she looked up and saw the face she knew so well her entire being crumbled in relief, a flood of something akin to excitement invading her entire body and she almost – _almost_- leaned into his arms.

"Come on." He pulled her and she followed silently along, for the first time thankful for the firm grasp he had on her arm.

To her surprise he turned into the aisle she was looking for and went straight to the door she wanted to reach. He pulled her inside, releasing her arm and locking the door. The room was brightly lit, leading the way to a short set of stairs.

Jason turned to her and for several seconds no word was uttered, as they faced each other, neither able to pull their eyes away. Until Nicky couldn't stand the intensity of his blue ones anymore and looked down at her shoes.

She had pictured in her head several situations in which she finally met him again, the things she would say, the reasons he had come, wondering if he had finally remembered everything or anything at all. But now that it had actually happened she was at a loss of words. She liked to think it was because she had so much to say she didn't know where to begin.

"They're coming for you."

She shifted, bringing her eyes up to his face. "I knew they would."

As per his standard, he ignored her. "Do you need anything from your place?"

He moved down the stairs and she started to follow. "My laptop."

He looked at his watch and quickly counted in his head. "Let's go."

She froze in her step. "Is it safe?" And as soon as the words were out she wanted to slap herself. Obviously it was safe or else he wouldn't have suggested going back.

He turned to her, watching how cautious and attent she was. "They haven't found you yet." There was no trace of disdain or condescendence, only a hint of cautiousness.

Despite the fact they were both under a life threatening predicament; she felt herself slipping in a calm passivity, a cocoon of tranquility Jason Bourne managed to create for her, even intentionally. It left her angry with herself. She shouldn't need him like this. Not after all this time.

She tried to shake the thoughts away, and distract herself from them as she followed him down the last few steps. The realization she would be constantly running again didn't seem to bother her much this time because now she'd have someone to run with. The only other person in the world who understood the life she was leading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter 4. Sorry for the delay. I'm still working over the next chapter so it may take a good while before I update again. There isn't action in this one, but I hope everyone will enjoy it just the same. The action will start next chapter.**

**Thank you for the reviews; they're very much appreciated :)**

**---still looking for a beta!**

-

As she finished setting all locks on her door, including the safety chain, she turned to Jason who was splitting his stare between her and the door. She shrugged and placed her keys on the table next to the door and felt like she should explain herself, even though she knew with him there was no reason to. "I feel safer this way." Not that it'd make much different when push came to shove, but the false sense of security eased her mind enough to allow her to sleep.

She crossed her arms over her chest, stepping further into the room. She may have felt safer with all the locks, but with Bourne in there with her she felt somehow exposed. He stood just inside the door, his eyes scanning the apartment quickly, thoroughly, and she realized that with Jason now standing on her doorway just how bare her small apartment really was. Clean and barren and utilitarian, blank walls devoid of any photographs. Nothing inside was hers. It wasn't a home, just a place to stay.

He didn't seem to notice, but stepped closer to her, uninterested in the four standard white walls surrounding them. Handing her a sheet of paper, Nicky silently held it, unfolding it slowly and with a look she realized it was a print out, an extermination file with their faces on it. She brought it closer to her face to read. The first thing she noticed was how outdated her picture was while she didn't recognize Jason's.

"They came after me first," he said, and her attention was moved from the file in her hands to his face. "Maybe they hadn't been able to find you, or they didn't try at all, wanting to use me to go after you. I don't know."

They should have known better than to keep sending people after him, Nicky thought. Every single person ever sent to take down Jason Bourne had ended up seriously injured or dead.

Except for you, a small voice whispered inside her head but she wasn't in the right mind to dwell in it. She was grateful she was still alive and wanted to let it rest at that.

She handed the print out back to him. She was shaking, not visibly, just that little amount that let you know you're not exactly in control, not enough for others to notice, but she was certain Jason would. And she was so grateful he had come that she didn't care what kind of circumstance it was that made him come. He had come and at that moment running away didn't sound so bad.

In a second all the resentment and anger she had felt towards him gave into the blow of guilty that started to consume her.

"I was going to leave soon," she said, walking into her bedroom straight to the desk where her computer was currently laying and started to unplug it. Her back to him and her hands busy seemed to be all she needed right now. She closed her eyes in a silent relief and leaned onto the desk, letting the weight vanish from her chest.

Just having him there, just his presence was enough to give her a reason to face another day. There was something to do, something to achieve, and she was suddenly back all those years when the consequences didn't matter because he was there; because _they_ were there. The realization left her angry, almost frightened. She hated herself for it.

"I have been watching you for a couple of days."

The proximity of his voice and the words he spoke made her jump, turn in a fast motion to face him and even while his voice had been close she hadn't realized how close he had actually come. He was standing in the doorway, but with her desk placed right next to the door it meant he was only two steps away from her, which was close to zero in her book because after so long any proximity at all was enough to send every cell on her body in alert, screaming, screaming, screaming.

Then it all gave away to anger as the meaning of his words sank in. "Two days?" He had been watching her for two freaking days, all the time making her feel as if something was off, scaring her half to death thinking that now someone had finally caught up to her and he didn't have the nerve to let her know.

"I had to be sure no one else had found you."

They faced each other for several seconds as Nicky digested his words and decided if what she went through had been worth it. Then she looked away as the momentary anger refused to subdue and started gathering the wires she had unplugged with more force than necessary.

If they were clear she wondered if they had time to sit down for a while, if he had eaten like a human being, if he'd like to rest a little before going back on the run, drink a cup of coffee, or if they had to move at all immediately.

_They. _

It was like a reflex. It had been 'them' for so long that even after three years without him she couldn't let go of the notion. It was as natural and essential as breathing. It was the automatic response from someone that never had to assume either of them was included because it just _was as it was_. And suddenly the prospect of her being left alone again was frightening and she hated the feeling and the anticipation of knowing.

Did he come here to just warn her or did he come here to take her?

"Would you like something to drink? Eat?" She felt like she was 21 again and they were in her apartment for the first time and she needed to make conversation because she just didn't know how to act around him because all she wanted to do was rip his clothes off and kiss him senseless and forget she wasn't supposed to be even _thinking_ about things like these.

"We have to leave soon."

"Okay." She nodded and mentally cursed herself for seeming so eager and relieved. "How soon?"

"Tonight." He pulled up the sleeve of his sweater and checked his watch. "If you have anything else you need to pack you should do it now."

She nodded again and the silence that fell over them was full of tension and words left unsaid and memories from the past that meant different things to each. She watched his face as he watched hers, as both of them wanted to say something but didn't know what could be said. Nicky tore her eyes away first, fidgeting nervously with the wires in her hands.

Hesitantly she moved to her closet and grabbed a small bag from the top shelf. Zipping the wires in one of the pockets, she went back to her laptop and put it inside the bag.

"Make yourself at home." She said, noticing Jason was still standing and watching as she moved around. His eyes on her that had once been a motive of pleasure were now making her nervous.

In five minutes she had grabbed everything she needed –laptop, a change of clothes and some other smaller necessities- and went to the living room, finding Jason staring out of the window, through a small crack on the curtain he had pulled open.

"I'm all set," she said, her voice almost echoing in the silent apartment.

"You did well."

His head turned to hers, brown eyes on blue. Her brows came together in confusion at what he really meant. He sucked at making conversation. As usual.

But he shook his head and was silence for a moment, as he checked his watch again, which Nicky was sure was an excuse for him to think. "Laying low."

"Oh." She didn't say anything else, not sure how to take his compliment. Once upon a time she'd have smiled and thanked him for his words, thinking his appraisal was the best thing in the world, flooded with the sensation of achievement.

After that neither said a word, the silence stretching out for minutes and Nicky wondered if he was planning, formulating. Jason was thankful for the silence. It was a change from the way Marie seemed to need to fill every empty moment with words. As the thought came so did the guilty and anger and all the mixed feelings that came with the woman he had once loved and lost, dead because of him.

"I need to go to the bus station," she said; her hand tightening around the strap of her shoulder bag as if she wasn't sure she should be speaking. "I left a bag in a locker."

He nodded, not asking her to explain. "Let's go."

And silently, she followed him again.

~*~

The station was bubbling with people coming and going with the night shift. Nicky hated traveling at night and wondered briefly what kind of circumstances would force these people to choose the night travels. No one was in a predicament like theirs, she was sure, forcing them to jump in a stolen car or run into the night no matter the time to protect themselves.

The taxi ride had been made in deep silence from both parties, with only the driver having the constant need to chat and once they had arrived, Jason paid for the fair, and they quickly made their way inside, getting lost in the thong of people, when he finally let her lead the way.

He didn't fail to notice the way she looked around, everywhere, at everyone, making her step quick and certain. He also noticed, as they finally reached their destination, that she had chosen a locker easy to get to and easy to get away from.

A small irrational bubble of pride filled up inside him, and he tried to ignore it because he had nothing to do with the fact she could protect herself.

Nicky quickly opened the locker and pulled a faded brown traveling bag from inside, and crouching down she zipped open the bag she had brought from her former home and moved the contents around so she could fit the smaller bag she had just taken from inside the locker. It became considerably heavier with now the new addition, but nothing she couldn't manage.

When she stood Jason was watching at her. "Passports," she said, in a way of explaining, her voice low. "And my fake IDs and money." She waited a second for any sign of recognition but like before all she got from him was a blank stare. "You don't remember." She didn't question, simply stated, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She had for some reason hoped that after all this time he'd have remembered something. But then, who was she kidding, 2 years had done nothing to make him remember a single moment with her, why would he in a few months?

"No."

She readjusted the strap across her chest and took a step closer to him. There was a moment of silence as she decided if she should say anything. She came as close as opening her mouth but then just closed it again. It wasn't her place to tell him his life, his memories. If he didn't remember all she'd be doing was tell him a meaningless scene from a foreign movie he hadn't watched.

"I'm ready," she said instead and he just nodded. Nicky felt torn between relief and disappointment because a part of her wished he'd be interested enough to push her into revealing something, anything, while another part was just glad he wasn't forcing her into dealing with something she wasn't sure she was ready to deal with. While he had no memories of her, even after all this time, for Nicky it was harder. She couldn't just erase 3 years with him.

He turned silently, and silently she followed him through the crowd. She would willingly be led now, because now she was once again in his hands.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I lied. It was unintentional, but I did. There isn't any action in this chapter, but that's mainly because the original chapter 5 is going to be chapter 6 now. This piece was begging to be written, so here it is. I still hope this won't turn anybody off. BUT there will be action next chapter, I PROMISE. I have a lot of it done, so updating shouldn't take another whole month lol (hopefully!). I'm sort of uneasy with this piece, so please review and let me know if you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with me so far :) Every single review is appreciated and eagerly waited for.

Also I wanted to acknowledge the fact I'm a slow writer (as you may have noticed by now). Updates may take a while to come, but they'll come. I like to take my time thinking and plotting and researching and writing instead of rushing everything for fast updates. I hope the slowness of it all hasn't put anyone off.

This chapter goes in special for Miks, who prefers the "past" chapters (as I call them!) because they have more Jason and Nicky than the actual fic LOL.

Lastly (but not least!), big thanks to Grimorie, whose ideas and feedbacks feed my mind, and whose help is more than I could wish for. Without you this fanfic wouldn't be the same, that's for sure ;)

--

The night was cold and the wind had picked up considerably during her drive from the safe house to the warehouse, and when she opened her car door the chill of the night air attacked her unprotected face, making her cheeks sting. Nicky shivered and quickly pulled her overcoat tighter. She grabbed the manila enveloped on the passenger's seat and stepped out; leaving the warm interior of her car and going into the cold was being quite a shock.

Then she stood there, in the cold night, shivering from head to toe and wondering _what the hell was wrong with her_.

Of course, she had genuine, -_professional-_ reasons to come, so it wasn't like she was arriving to an intimate meeting, answering to a booty call – hell, she had been the one to get in touch with him. She had information she needed to hand out, and he was the asset that needed it for the mission. Simple.

So, whatever she was feeling was probably hesitation, awareness, even fear, but it certainly wasn't anticipation. She had to be indifferent to it.

Nicky took a deep breath and tried to clear her head, the cold air making its way down inside quickly, drying her throat. The thought of him made her antsy. She didn't even know if she could handle seeing him right now.

Her hands were shaking and her heart was pounding so fast she could hear it in her ears and could almost picture her palms sweating. She was nervous like a school girl and she hated herself for it.

_Jesus Christ, Nicky, get over yourself._

And trying to obey her own command, she let her overcoat slip open and hoped the cold would take control of her mind, and took a step forward. Then another, and before she could stop herself she had already crossed the graveled ground between her car and the side door and she couldn't turn around anymore.

Hell, she couldn't turn around anyway. She needed to give him vital information and there was no one else to do this task. There was no way to avoid Jason Bourne.

She opened the metal door and flinched when it groaned, the sound echoing loudly inside the half empty warehouse. The structure of the building was old, making it seem as if the whole thing was whining along with the door. She cursed silently; the last thing she needed was to make her arrival known the second she stepped inside.

She froze just inside the threshold, coming to the realization that she could absolutely not face Jason Bourne right now. Unable to move, Nicky licked her lips and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath she tried to calm herself down.

_You can do this, Nicky._

What she needed was a big boost of courage. She willed her feet to move, and stepped further inside.

She looked around but found the warehouse empty and sighed in relief. Maybe she could take the time to relax a little and gather her bearings, but it was too late.

She thought she heard him at first, and looked around again spotting Bourne by the wall across from her, watching her in silence. Her hands started shaking once again, and her breath caught. She felt restless and vulnerable and she hated it. She hated what he did to her, the way she reacted to him.

This was the first time she was seeing him after their encounter. She had expected him to be gone by the time she woke up in the morning, but reality had been much different. Seeing empty sheets and no signs he had ever been there had made her feel cheap. What else could have happened anyway? What else could she have possibly expected under the circumstances? For him to be there when she woke up? For him to smile at her and profess his undying love? The thought made her laugh.

The sex had been good –amazing really, she couldn't deny that- but she had hoped he'd at least make some sort of contact. It still made her angry he hadn't even tried.

How stupid she had been, how weak, how foolish.

The worst part of it all was that seeing him right now making his way towards her made her blood rush through her veins, the cold around her disappear and all she wanted to do was kiss him.

He stopped in front of her and suddenly she didn't even know what to say to him, and there was an awkwardness in the air, laden with the unsaid. She had forgotten for a second the real reason she had come and the envelope in her hand almost fell.

She handed it out to him. The moment he took it she'd turn around and get out of there as quick as possible and let this water run under the bridge. Put an end to something that should never have happened. He was an asset, she was his handler; she had been intelligent enough to be called into one of CIA's secret project, but she wouldn't be stupid enough to keep falling in bed with an assassin. A Doberman waiting to attack. She could ignore it; that had been her first option anyway.

Talk about morning regrets coming a little too late.

"From now on we'll only contact each other on scheduled times and when we require your services. No more, no less." The words slipped from her mouth, unwanted. Okay, so maybe she'd have her say then leave as quick as possible.

Instead of grabbing the envelope, Bourne closed his fingers around her wrist and pulled her to him. She was forced to step into his personal space; his proximity tugged at her when she should have stepped back and she found herself unable to move.

"It isn't over."

"Yes, it is." She was breathless, furious with him, but under the fury she recognized a need she had never felt before; like he had offered her something she hadn't known she wanted, not this much.

The hand around her wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to pressure, and pulled her closer. Their bodies would be touching if their hands weren't in between them. He looked right at her; she was wearing heeled boots, so they were eye level. She saw the intensity in his eyes, probably matching the desire boiling inside her.

"Is it?"

"Let go," she hissed and was surprised at how strong and bold she was sounding right this moment.

"Is it, Nicky?" He was giving her an out, she knew that, but when it was so resolute, a certainty that if she said the word he'd be gone, she at a loss of words. Suddenly she wasn't so sure of herself anymore. Did she really want it to end?

Her stomach came into a knot, the muscles on her back and face tightened and she tried to tell him all the reasons why they couldn't do this, but he was too close, his breath on her face, his lips full and in her line of vision, their eyes locked in a game of strength. Her resolve faltered.

Instead of stepping away, her body betrayed her mind; she closed the small gap between them and kissed him.

He wasn't caught by surprise, as if he had already known her answer before she did herself and within a second her hands and lips grew bolder, more urgent. The spark of lust ignited quickly, bringing every nerve on her body in alert, spreading and rushing through her veins; the sound of her heart was beating loudly in her ears.

Bourne's hand left her wrist and found a place on her hip, gripping her to him; his other hand moved to the back of her neck, keeping her in place, angling their heads for better access. He nipped at her bottom lip and she moaned softly, then cursed herself, but there was no controlling it.

He coaxed her mouth open and kissed her thoroughly, his tongue sliding between her lips, touching hers and sending shivers through her body; a wave to take control of her mind.

She felt the muscles under his jacket twitch, the tension in his body ease as she slid her hands up his back. Gentle fingers sneaking under her shirt, pushing her closer; she gasped at the unexpected direct contact and was only mildly surprised – Jason _was_ good with his hands.

Soon the urgency that had controlled the kiss at first ebbed into a gentleness that made her sigh even as their lips were still joined, then slowed to a soft caress until they broke apart to breath. She leaned back to preserve the small but crucial distance between their bodies, the heat enveloping them burning and thick.

She shouldn't need him like this, she thought, she couldn't need him like this.

They were both still and silent, their heavy breathes the only sound filling the large room, caught in a half embrace as if every forbidden second had formed a chain around them. She knew she should pull away before things went too far again, but she couldn't move; his presence seemed to have some kind of control over her body and mind, she always found herself unable to just step away, to just turn around.

This was wrong; it was a dangerous game they were playing.

She was aware of every shift of his weight, the subtle movements of bone and muscle. The sound of his breathing was hypnotizing; it came in ragged puffs, his hands gripping her body. He, who had been trained to be in complete control was obviously fighting for self restrain and the realization sent a jolt of accomplishment through her body; knowing she could cause in him at least some of the reaction he caused in her made her excited, relieved in some way.

"This is wrong," she whispered, trying to regain some of her own self control.

He didn't reply, but instead kissed her again deep and fast then pulled back, leaving her desperate for more.

Bourne took the crumpled manila envelope from her hand and leaned closer, his lips hovering close to her ear. "When I'm back," he threatened, or warned, she couldn't be sure because his breath was hot and thick and made her toes curl and her stomach tremble. Then he turned around and left, just like that, leaving her sexually frustrated and on the verge of committing murder.

She held back a furious yell and clenched her teeth. Every time she tried to do something she ended up doing something else entirely and that was starting to annoy the hell out of her. She wanted to run after him, tell him to get over that idea, to get over what happened, forget her and leave her alone, but she couldn't. Her brain screamed at her for her stupidity but her body wouldn't obey.

Nicky suddenly felt tears fill her eyes but blinked them away; she refused to cry. It wasn't fair to her, to both of them. If they had met under different circumstances, if only…

No Nicky, she told herself, don't go there.

It was already bad she was attracted to the last person in the planet she should be attracted to –because really, she was beyond denying it to herself, her mission now was hiding the fact from everybody else if she wanted her head in place- and being on the verge of an emotional breakdown because of it was the last thing she should do. She had to keep her had clear, her mind focused. Bourne or no Bourne she had a job to do.

Nicky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She should go home now, clear her head and think. It was late and she was tired and she needed to get Bourne out of her system somehow. She turned around and left through the door she had used, walking quickly to her car. It was cold and windy just like before, while so much had happened and changed inside the warehouse the world was still the same.

Nicky fished for her car keys inside her pocket and felt something that shouldn't be there. Pulling the object out she saw it was a black cell phone, pre-paid no doubt, slipped there by Jason sometime during their rendezvous. She clutched the piece and stared at it for a moment.

This was going to end up badly, she knew it; there was no way such affair could ever have a happy or at least satisfying ending. The best she could hope for was that she'd get to keep her life, but it was all beyond her control, especially because she _wanted_ to be with him, so much that she was risking her neck for it.

Let's take on day at a time, she thought, and worry when the time comes.

So she did.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So we hit the 50 mark. Thanks everyone for the reviews!! Please keep them coming!

This is the longest chapter so far. Please read, enjoy and review :)

Many thanks to **askita** for the wonderful help and beta job :)

--

The parking lot wasn't crowded; with a handful of people coming and going, they weren't standing out and they could still keep their eyes alert for anybody who didn't seem to fit.

Nicky was restless and even more so seeing how calm Jason seemed to be. She knew it was a result of who he was, of the man Treadstone had made of him, always in control, always one step ahead. But she had always wondered if that was all who he was, or if it only hid the fear somewhere inside.

Was he afraid like she was?

She kept her pace even with his, stole a quick glance in his direction but he was focused; his step was certain. He knew what he was doing and she was glad for it. For the first time in months she could let someone else carry this burden.

She watched Jason take a small device from his pocket and point it to the cars as they passed by, until one of the cars' lights blinked, and she realized what he had been doing. Jamming with a car's alarm system had been a distant information, and she had never seen it being used. Interesting and convenient.

Jason didn't need to tell her to get in; the moment the alarm beeped, she was already opening the passenger door as he got in behind the wheel. It felt… strange, stealing somebody else's car; she had never done it before, and while she felt uncomfortable Jason seemed to know just what to do, as if he had done it a dozen times before – which she knew he had. Well, she had been doing a lot of things she had never done before, and being an outlaw was out of her control.

As he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and into traffic, Nicky studied his face, stealing glances his direction as the lights from lamp posts and car headlights flashed across him. Red, yellow, darkness. She knew he noticed her staring, impossible not to, he could feel it even while sleeping, but he didn't look back at her, didn't acknowledge it. He never did.

She wanted to ask him something, anything. To have him talk to her, to distract her from the situation, from his close proximity, the sudden tension filling the silent car. Was it okay to feel hope even though she shouldn't?

Traffic was slow; streets filled with tourists on foot and in cars, and the usual exodus from work to home, even in this small part of Florence, meant waiting. But Jason was pushing his way through the sea of cars almost violently. He passed from the left lane to the right and turned hastily into the first street, gaining a few horns in the process.

Nicky frowned, a sudden cold finger sliding down her spine, and she moved her eyes from the window to him. His face was hard and his eyes flickered too often between the rearview mirror and the traffic ahead. "Jason," she started but didn't have time to finish.

"We're being followed. Silver Saturn two cars behind."

She slightly turned in her seat to look, her feet kicking the bag she had placed on the floor as she momentarily forgot about it. She couldn't see the car from her position, but Jason's tense face was enough to send her heart into double rhythm. This was not good. Se quickly pulled the seatbelt she had forgotten to put on and fastened it.

"Hold on."

The words registered a moment too late when the car was already turning left. She jerked right, bumping against the door, and her hand flew up to it instinctively, right on time to stop a collision of her head with the glass.

Jason made a sharp turn to the right, into an empty street. Nicky was shoved slightly from left to right, but the seatbelt managed to keep her in her seat. The Saturn was right behind them now, gaining speed, and Jason sped up, above speed limit and going faster. Nicky's heart was drumming violently against her chest not because of the high speed, but because of the car behind them approaching alarmingly fast.

In that moment something snapped inside her brain and she quickly reached for her bag. When she pulled out the gun Jason shot her a surprised look and she almost smirked for catching him off guard; instead she checked the gun and cocked it. She wasn't positively sure what to do with it at the moment, but she held on to it tightly, ready to hand it over in case Jason needed it, which she was sure he would. Hoped he wouldn't but…

Jason changed gears and pushed his foot deeper into the pedal, the car speeding forward even more, but Nicky felt as if they hadn't gained speed at all, as if the car refused to go any faster, the Saturn behind them almost bumper to bumper.

Jason shifted gears and pressed further onto the gas pedal. The car sped forward but Nicky felt as if they hadn't gained any speed at all. It was almost as if the car refused to go any faster, leaving the Saturn behind them; bumper to bumper.

He took another sharp left and this time Nicky seemed to be caught by surprise. With his eyes shifting back and forth between the street ahead and the rearview mirror he heard, rather than saw, Nicky bump against the door.

The car behind them fell back only a couple of meters but in seconds had caught up with them again. It gained speed and Jason pushed the pedal all the way down, but the Saturn had gotten even with them on Nicky's side. Florence streets were mostly narrow and it left Jason little room to run; and when the operative inside the car chasing them raised a gun, memories of Marie started invading his mind. He forced himself to focus on the moment instead of India and the mistake that had gotten her killed. A mistake he wasn't going to make twice. He hit the breaks as the sound of a gunshot echoed in his ears and the car screeched as he stopped abruptly and twisted the wheel.

Nicky ducked right then. Her hands flew up to her head, the gun falling somewhere, as the force of the car stopping threw her forward, the seatbelt tightening against her chest painfully, cutting off air supply for a moment. She heard glass breaking, and tires screeching, and a bullet whizzed past.

"Nicky!"

She barely heard his shout against the hammering of her heart. She pressed a hand against the front panel and pushed herself up and back. She had expected to see blood everywhere, shards of glass covering her clothes; to feel a bullet wound somewhere, excruciating pain, but all she felt was a burning on her forehead and chest.

"Nicky!"

She looked at him in shock, her hand moving to her head. She felt blood and thought that maybe she was dead, but then she wouldn't be in pain if she was dead, would she? She wouldn't still be in a moving car, with her heart beating so fast it felt as if it was going to jump out of her chest at any moment.

"I'm ok," she finally said, bringing her hand down and staring at her fingers, not really believing her own words. Was she really ok? But her fingers weren't covered in blood, just stained. "I think it just grazed."

He held a desperate, worried expression, but he didn't have time to check on her, his eyes moving back to the street ahead, accepting that she was, indeed, okay. Not unharmed, but alive.

She followed his eyes and realized Jason had made a 180 turn, going back the street they had come from; the operative still right behind them.

Another bullet hit the rear glass and they both flinched instinctively. Jason slowed the car down a fraction, and used Nicky's gun, that he had at some moment gotten from her, to shoot back. Jason let the Saturn catch up with them and when they were side by side, he turned the wheel, their Golf hitting the operative's car with violence, catching him off guard and sending the Saturn into a parked car. It fell behind and Jason used the opportunity to speed up as much as he could, trying to put as much distance as possible between them.

He turned right, into a wider street where traffic grew considerably, but it still left them enough room to move between cars. He drove in high speed to Lugarno degli Acciaioli and could see Ponte Vecchio far ahead; packed heavily with tourists, they had a chance to disappear among the crowd. Jason checked his rearview mirror and clenched his teeth when he saw the Saturn not too far behind.

It was gaining proximity, three cars, then two, and Jason made a quick decision to move right into the next street and double back to Ponte Vecchio by foot. The Saturn was right next to them. The traffic had thinned out and Jason used the opportunity to push the operative's car out of the way. The car held and the operative twisted the wheel to the right, hitting his car against the Golf. Jason tried to hold the steering wheel firmly but the force of the impact managed to make the car skid to the left and nearly crash against a parked Fiat.

Jason took control of the car and avoided the collision. He saw the next street come closer and, in a last attempt to lose the Saturn, Jason turned the wheel right and then sharply to the left crashing his car against the operative's. The operative then lost control of the Saturn; skidding to the left, onto the next lane, and hitting the rail. It broke and the car teetered over the edge, threatening to fall into the river.

Jason looked back to make sure the operative wasn't going to follow them immediately and, with his attention momentarily on the crash, he missed the garbage truck coming from the street he had intended to turn into just moments ago.

It hit them full force on Nicky's side, as they were both jolted violently to the right; the collision sending the car screeching to a halt. Nicky bumped against her door, her head hitting against the cracked glass window and she felt a darkness surround her immediately. There had been no time to protect herself from the impact, and she lost her senses for a moment.

Jason removed his seatbelt and bent over Nicky, ignoring the yells and shouts outside their car and the drumming in his ears. "Nicky!" She moved slightly, her hand to her head. She wasn't unconscious but dazed and confused. He removed her seatbelt, grabbed her bag and pulled her out of the car through the driver's side. Her head was bleeding heavily, but right now they needed to move and get away from the crash before the police started arriving.

He put an arm around her waist, and his free hand grabbed her arm, as he tried to keep her upright and moving. He moved into the crowd and along Ponte Vecchio; the tourists not giving them a second glance. As Jason passed a group of women, he fished for the scarf that was poking out of one of the women's pocket and handed it to Nicky. "Put this on your head. You need to stop the bleeding."

She took it, mostly because he sounded desperate than because she really understood his request; it took her brain a while longer to process his words, too long it seemed, because he suddenly stopped, pushing her against a less crowed wall, and took the scarf back from her hand. He folded it and pressed it against her head and she hissed. "Am I…."

"-bleeding," he interrupted and pressed the scarf again, making her hiss for a second time and move her eyes to his. It hurt, he knew that, but she needed to concentrate on the now, to focus on what she was doing because she needed _to stop the bleeding_ and they needed to get away. "Hold it in place." He took a quick glance around, sweeping the surroundings, and was satisfied that nobody seemed to be following or paying them any attention. When he looked back at her, her eyes seemed to have unfocused again and he shook her slightly. "Are you listening?"

Her vision was blurry, and her senses mingled, and it seemed as if her entire body was hurting, but she had heard him.

"Yes." And to prove it, she held the scarf firmly to her head.

Satisfied, Jason resumed their previous position, one arm around her waist, the other holding her arm, and pulled her along with him as they made their way to the other side of the bridge. It was dark, and they could slip easily from view. What he needed to do now was find some place to stay the night where they could take care of her injuries and rest.

Jason walked quickly, almost dragging her along, for several blocks through empty and dark streets. Debating whether to find a closed pharmacy first or go straight to a hotel. Nicky was in no shape to walk; she was clearly in pain and was slowing him down terribly, becoming heavier and heavier the more they walked. Finding a place right now to tend to her seemed to be risky, especially if they wanted to stay incognito.

They needed to leave Florence as soon as possible.

He made up his mind when he spotted the sign of a hotel far up ahead. It looked small and rather shabby. Less so than most of the places he stayed at, and it was far enough from the crash to pass by unnoticed. It'd have to do.

--

The hammering between her ears was too loud, and the pain behind her eyes was almost blinding. Nicky rested a hand against the wall, just inside the threshold, as Jason let go of her to close the door behind them. The soft click of a key turning letting her know he had locked it. Then he flicked the lights on and Nicky almost had a brain explosion as she groaned and closed her eyes to the sudden bright assault.

Jason spared her a glance as he walked past, quickly crossing the room to close the curtains.

"Sorry," he said, looking outside through a small crack, making a quick search until he seemed satisfied nobody had followed them.

Removing the scarf around her head carefully, Nicky felt the room spin a little and didn't dare stepping away from the wall. The smell of blood was etched into her nose and for a moment she thought she'd never be able to forget it.

"How bad is it?" she asked when Jason returned to her side after dropping her bag onto one of the beds.

He finally seemed to stop and look at her, measuring the damage, and Nicky knew the moment he had decided to lie. "Not too bad."

She wanted to snort but refrained herself from doing so, afraid that the slightest move would trigger another set of painful jolts through her head. Instead she tried pushing herself upright and actually managed to stand on her own without swaying.

She felt a little surprised when Jason grabbed her arm but didn't protest.

"Sit down," he said, and she did.

The table was round and small (with only two very uncomfortable chairs) but she realized it was far better than standing. Then Jason left her there, disappearing behind her back. She heard a door opening and presumed it was the bathroom, heard him going through shelves and little doors and the sounds he was making were so painfully comfortable that she almost let herself drift into memories of years ago.

The running water echoed in the silent room and Nicky tried to focus on it, focus on his sounds and away from the war raging inside her head. If she just closed her eyes she could easily drift away… be taken back.

She blinked and kept her eyes open; maybe focusing on the pain was better, It meant she couldn't think of before… before he left… before when there was still 'them'. This certainly wasn't the time for melancholia.

Absorbed in her thoughts, in the argumentation with herself of what was better, she didn't notice when the water stopped running. When Jason entered the room again, when he sat across from her, and was startled when she felt his hand on her face.

"I can do it," she said quickly, (too quickly) eyeing the bowl filled with water and the first aid kit he had placed on the table, immediately knowing his intentions. Having his hands on her skin was the last thing that should happen while she had her feelings so raw, treading the surface. She could take care of herself; she didn't want to depend on him. Not anymore.

"You can hardly stand on your own. Just stay still."

She was only mildly surprised at his words, half expecting him to want to handle things himself, but she didn't want to argue either. She didn't have the willpower to argue so she didn't say a word. Or maybe she just needed to feel him touching her (just for a little while) even if it was cheating in a way; even if it went against every argument she was having with herself; even if it was against better judgment. Just for a little while. For the first time in a long while she just let him take care of her.

He held her chin tighter, turning her head slightly so he could assess the damage inflicted on her better. He didn't expect the flash of anger that awakened his cells; a foreign feeling of protectiveness towards her, so strange and familiar at the same time; as if it had always been a part of him but then, not quite. He kept his face stoic and tried to take control of this new wave of feelings which, surprisingly, he didn't find quite so easy to do.

She stared at him as he had his eyes focused on her forehead and she found herself searching for something to say; to stop this moment before it became too awkward, before it became too much. Then she remembered.

"I have bandages in my bag. Not much," she added quickly. "Only enough for an emergency."

He let go of her face, her hair falling back over her eyes. Her skin was suddenly cold. She sighed inwardly, half relieved half disappointed, as he reached for her bag.

She took it from him awkwardly, trying not to move too much; trying to send away the memories haunting her, afraid of the different kinds of pain both would jolt through her. She opened the zip, reaching inside for the bandages, then handed the small package to him.

He put it on the table and grabbed a small towel he had taken from the bathroom, dipped a section of it inside the bowel full of water and reached for her face again. When he did, she was already expecting it. His hand was holding her hair away from her face, once again, and then there was the sharp pain when he pressed the towel to her skin, which she welcomed gladly. It was something _else_ to focus on instead of on him.

Jason gently cleaned the blood off of her skin, from her forehead down to her temple and then to her cheek. She had a long cut on her forehead, along her hairline, which looked deep enough to need stitches, but it had stopped bleeding. The rest looked fairly superficial; the burned skin above her eyebrow where the bullet had grazed, scratches on her temple and her cheekbone right under her eye. Her skin looked red and slightly swollen and he was sure she'd have purple spots tomorrow. But nothing major, no real damage, and he was surprised at finding himself relieved.

He sensed her breathing go deep and strained, and wondered briefly if it was because of the pain, or… something _else_.

Nicky tried to think of something other than the feel of Jason touching her, the proximity the current situation required, and his soft breath fanning over her face gently. She tried to keep herself from reaching a hand out; from touching his face, brushing her fingertips across his cheeks, his lips, along his jaw; letting her finger run over all the familiar lines and imperfections.

Her chest tightened at the thought, as if there was a hand squeezing her heart, cold and bitter and hurtful; it was too painful to know she wasn't able to do it. She hadn't been able to do it for so long.

Then she realized the pain wasn't so bad anymore. Somewhere between her wonderings, shock, and adrenaline; the blinding pain had ebbed down to a dull hammering. She noticed the smell of blood wasn't so strong. The spinning frenzy the world had taken had slowed to a simple wavering. The fact that she could open her eyes without wanting to throw up eased her mind some.

But right now, as Jason's hand touched her skin as he cleaned the blood, she wished yet again she had something else to concentrate on instead of how warm he felt and how good he smelled and how long it had been since he had touched her with such care.

Her thoughts were harshly interrupted when a sharp pain knifed right through her head wound. She flinched and her eyes instantly adjusted to the person in front of her, holding a cotton ball with, what was no doubt, peroxide.

"Hold still," he said softly, his tone apologetic. "It isn't so bad," he continued looking her in the eye and feeling something flood between them. He tried to ignore it and focus on the moment, on her and her injuries. "The bullet just burned the skin. The worst is the cut on your forehead; it's deep and you need stitches." He sighed, knowing she understood that they couldn't do any fixing now, and the scar to result from it wouldn't be pretty. He tried to lessen the damage. "But it's along your hairline; the scar will be hardly visible."

"Scars don't bother me," she replied, and their eyes met; the double meaning of her words hanging between them.

She looked away first. The silence that followed was only interrupted by their soft breaths and the sounds of Jason shifting as he worked on her head, an unfamiliarly comfortable tranquility, and an electricity that passed between them from his fingertips to the skin on her face.

She couldn't help herself. She shifted her eyes back to him and was surprised to find him already looking at her. For a moment his hand stopped, she felt his fingers frozen on the same spot, and the heat between them was rising. His eyes locked with hers with such intensity that she could barely breathe until he abruptly pulled away.

"All done."

She sighed deeply. What did she feel, disappointed? How could she, she didn't have the right. She cursed herself for feelings she should have control over. For feelings she shouldn't feel anymore.

She watched as Jason stood and gathered the remains from the table, wiping the surface with a clean part of the towel. He then threw everything into the trashcan he had placed nearby. Her eyes followed him at their own will as he entered the bathroom and listened quietly to the sounds as he opened the faucet and the water fell. She stood as well, slowly and carefully, testing herself and the world's response to her movements.

She slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder and waited for him to leave the bathroom, then she locked herself inside without giving him a second glance.

Everything seemed to be raw; her feelings were so exposed she could almost touch them. She thought being away, alone and all on her own, had been difficult; but right now, having him so close and being unable to do anything about it was painful. He felt further away than ever.

How could he remember all the bad things, the evil things from his past, death and pain and cruelty, but he couldn't remember _her_? Not even at all?

She realized then, that the absence had made her heart grow still. The pain becoming so numb she couldn't feel it anymore. Maybe she had just gotten used to it, learned to ignore it.

Nicky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was best and wiser if she didn't think about it all, if she blocked all these thoughts like she had learned to do for the past 3 years. If she ignored everything long enough then maybe it could all fade; become a memory lost in her imagination.

She looked at herself in the mirror and was only half surprised at the reflection she faced; the blood and cuts painting an ugly picture of a girl she didn't recognize. Ironically she looked like the way she felt inside.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm so sorry for the ridiculous delay. I have no excuses other than I didn't feel like writing. I took forever to start the last half of the chapter and then another eternity to type what I had written. Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for it? Or maybe you can take this as a Christmas gift :) This isn't beta-ed, so any and all mistakes are mine.

Read and review as usual, please! :D

**Chapter 7.**

Waking up in a different bed every now and then had been a normal occurrence to her; different room, different cities, and sometimes even different countries altogether. It reached a point where it didn't bother her anymore; her brain and body had assimilated the foreign feeling with joy, happiness, anything that such thing should not represent. Sometimes she couldn't even recognize the comfort of her own bed, so familiar but cold and lonely.

In the past few months it only became more frequent, but this time there were no smiles to follow.

She shifted in bed and the weight in her head seemed to press harder against her skull. For a moment she didn't know where she was; Paris or Nancy or Cannes or some little town she had escaped to for a day, or even a few hours, completely lost in time and wondering what she had done the previous night to make her feel such pain in her head and body.

The lightening in the room was dim, sunlight filtering through the crack between the dark curtains covering the windows, giving the room the atmosphere of solemnity and nostalgia, and her heart clenched for some reason.

Then a hand appeared in front of her half open eyes and she blinked to bring it into focus.

"Pain killers."

_Jason._ In a second memories came crashing down on her with a force that almost left her breathless. She wasn't in a little secluded place in France, after all, but some seedy nondescript motel where she had hid with him after a truck had almost run them over. The pain seemed to be more acute now that she was well aware of it but she knew it was mostly psychological.

And he still didn't remember.

Then something else hit her: _pain killers_. They didn't have any, which could only mean Jason had gone out to get them. He had left her on her own, and even if she hadn't been aware of it there was a part of her that was still frightened by the prospect of being alone again. Just the thought of them parting ways made something inside her sink and even now she was already preparing herself for the separation.

She raised her arm to take the bottle from him and felt the sharp pull of sore muscle and sensitive flesh; her head was starting to throb. The pain made her forget her internal drama and be thankful for the medicine. It'd be very inconvenient if she had to run around with him in pain, even if it was bearable. "Thanks."

He placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and her heart did a little flip, as immature and juvenile as it was, from his attention. She missed being his focus, being taken care of by him, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, how self sufficient she had always been; having somewhere there for you changed everything.

She noticed he was already dressed and most of the room had already been wiped clean; she felt her cheeks burn as the awkwardness made her blush for being still in bed. It felt weird for him to be ready to go while she was still blinking away fragments of sleep. She panicked for a little moment realizing that he could leave her behind and she would never have time to follow.

Quickly she took the painkillers, helping it down with water, and then gingerly got out of bed, intent on getting dressed fast before he had the chance to change his mind and leave on his own. Her eyes watched him as he checked his watch.

He noticed and suddenly felt the need to explain, "There's a train leaving for Rome in 15 minutes, we're not going to make it, but if we hurry we can take the next."

"You should have woken me earlier," she said, grabbing her bag and making her way to the small bathroom.

"You needed the rest."

She stopped, hand on doorknob, the strap of her bag over her good shoulder, and looked at him willing him to remember, to _please remember_, to make that statement mean something deeper, something else other than what he really meant.

"You'll only slow us down if you can't stand on your own feet."

A half smile crossed her features and she looked down, pulling the door wider as she stepped inside, the cold titled floor being a welcome sensation to the sole of her feet.

She saw something cross his eyes, the lines on his face changing, deepening; the apology forming even before he was done thinking about it. "That's not what I meant."

She knew he was right. It'd be useless for the both of them if she couldn't carry herself. What would be the point of running if she couldn't do it? But there was still that part of her, the girl she was before it all, that spoke up too often for her liking, that wanted him to be her Jason again.

Instead she closed the door, breathing out heavily, relieved to be secluded within four walls that didn't have him inside. The past day had been emotionally and physically exhausting and even though she had blacked out for the duration of the night she still felt as if she hadn't slept for days.

She turned on the faucet and when she looked in the mirror above the sink she had to take a moment to let the reflection staring back at her sink in. Only once before she had felt as if life itself had run her over; back then the scars and wounds had been inside, a big gap left in her when Jason had turned his back on Paris; on her. This time it had all been transferred to her skin and the purple bruises were a certain attention catcher. She felt awful but she definitely looked worse.

Her face was red and purple where she had hit against the car window, the burned skin where the bullet had grazed looked a little raw and her hair was matted with dried blood in places she had missed last night. Nicky gently pulled back her fringe and looked at the cut along her hairline; it was long and it was swollen but all in all Jason had done a good job cleaning it up and sticking the sides together with the little emergency kit he had gathered.

She'd have an ugly scar once it was healed but like everything else it'd be hidden from view.

Once she had taken a general inspection of her looks and the initial shock had ebbed, she took the hand towel from the hook and put it under the running water until she was satisfied, then proceeded to quickly rub the blood off of her hair, and carefully wash her face. Knowing Jason was outside waiting unnerved her; it only made her want to finish fast so they could leave.

After she was finished Nicky cleaned the sink and wiped every bit of surface she had touched, then threw everything in the garbage and closed the plastic bag, taking it with her from the bathroom to throw it out once they left. She did a quick inspection of the room and satisfied with the result she stepped out of the bedroom.

Her bed had been made and the room cleaned; everything tidy and neat, as if nobody had ever slept in there. Jason was closing a garbage bag when he turned at the sound of her coming out and for a split of a second she saw him freeze then cover the surprise immediately.

"Make-up," she said, shrugging, almost embarrassed. She didn't blame him for being caught by surprise; one injured Nicky Parsons had entered the bathroom, only to a fresh new one to emerge. "I have a little kit in my bag. For emergencies." She had managed to cover up nearly everything with concealing cream and face powder; she had done such a good job that it looked almost natural, like a girl who had overdone her make-up, not someone trying to hide wounds. In any case, it was far better than the dark marks covering the right side of her face.

"It looks good," he nodded and his eyes finally left hers.

She stood there in silence for a moment, watching as he checked the room for the last time, and then remembered the bag she was holding. "I cleaned the bathroom."

Jason nodded, and took the bag from her. "Let's go."

She sighed and followed him out into another long day.

The train station was full; tourists and residents alike crowding the place and it made her nervous. There were too many people to watch, too many faces to study, too many places a killer could be hiding. She knew Jason had no problems processing every detail, and by now she was certain he already had the entire place mapped out in his mind, easy access exits, who was who, and train schedules; it made her feel a little calmer, safer.

She knew she could rely on him; trust him with her life, even if he didn't know who and what she had been to him.

They were sitting in front of a little café, the metal table small and round and they sat facing each other; except she was facing him in an unbreakable stare, her back mostly to the crowd while his eyes followed the people coming and going with the paranoia that had been brainwashed in him. He didn't seem to mind, or to pay her any attention; his eyes never left the crowd. She looked away. The coffee in both their cups growing cold, and her sandwich was untouched.

"You should eat."

Her eyes went back to him sharply, surprised; he was looking at her and she stared back until the intense glare of his eyes was too much, then looked down at her sandwich. "I know." She took a half hearted bite and forced herself to swallow. She knew she had to put some food inside her, specially since she was taking painkillers; she hadn't eaten anything besides the coke and chips she had the previous day as an excuse of a late lunch, but she just didn't feel hungry. The adrenaline and fear and worry were taking control, she was too nervous to eat.

She saw him check his watch for the twentieth time and started getting overly restless; their train was about to leave soon but Jason's paranoid caution kept them in place until the very last possible minute. She didn't condemn it, she just didn't want to risk losing the train and staying any moment longer than necessary.

Jason took a last look around and stood, his chair scraping the floor a little louder than she was comfortable with. "Let's go."

She got up immediately, the strap of her bag was already across her chest before she was fully standing, and followed Jason silently. He was faster than she, longer strides, but he held himself to walk at her pace by her side and she appreciated the gesture.

They were the last ones in, the doors closing behind them just as they entered the train. The car was full, crowded with loud tourists who didn't pay them any attention, and while being closed in such a small space with so many people was a little uncomfortable, Nicky realized they could blend in just fine.

FLORENCE – ROME

She had been filtering out the loud and cheerful voices ever since the train took off; the headache forming behind her eyes made her wish they had taken seats somewhere quieter. This time she was willing to fall into her thoughts of what-ifs and excuses and sorrow if it meant she'd be alone and in peace.

She realized that from now on there would be neither loneliness nor peace for her anymore, not for a long time, and had it been a few years back she'd have accepted it with a smile even if it meant having to hide for the rest of her life; it'd be just a small price to pay for happiness, to be with him. Now taking that journey meant waiting and hoping and agonizing and having her heart broken more times than she feared she could bear.

Jason hadn't said a word ever since they boarded the train and part of her wanted him to start a conversation, to act as if they had known each other better than anyone else in this planet did; yet another part kept telling maliciously telling her that things would never be like that again, the damage had been done and it couldn't be repaired.

_I'm not CIA_, she tried to remind herself, but the words were meaningless; by omitting herself she had easily become part of the problem. From the moment she had crossed the line with Jason her judgment became blurred, her actions questionable, her loyalties divided. She had taken everything from him, but given nothing; there was so much she could have done, things she could have said, different choices she could have made.

Her moments with Jason were clear, he had been more like a man with his brain untouched than like the assassin Treadstone made him to be; he wanted to be better with her. She could have tried to find out who he was, given him his name, encouraged him to choose them when his unspoken words weighted heavily on them; instead she shut it all out, ignored the possibilities, let her fear and cowardice speak louder. Any moment with him, stolen and real, was better than the uncertainty.

Now here they were, like two strangers without a past. Now here _he_ was, broken and alone with so much more losses than she.

Had it all been really worth it? All the pain and death and misery, to ruin someone's life for her own happiness? For some wrongful "greater good"?

"I'm sorry." The words crawled out, barely above a whisper, shaky but sincere.

"For what?" He was surprised, but she was used to seeing this expression on his face.

"Everything? For what they did to you. For not doing anything. For not helping." For going with the flow, for choosing what was easy, not what was right, even though she didn't want to be part of that anymore, a system that had become the opposite of what she believed in, of the reason she had joined it for, that had become greedy and murderous, destroying everything it touched.

"You did help me." Even if it had been at gunpoint she was still the one that had offered her car and knowledge and refused to give up the information about Daniels before they were halfway down the stairs. He still knew that the moment he heard Vosen's voice on the phone, there would be no easy way out for her, not after she had lied to them.

Maybe back then he thought she owed him for what they had done, but he realized later that she been just another pawn in their game.

She started at him and the words almost came out; _not enough_, she wanted to say, but something warmed up inside of her at his words. Maybe she was selling herself short, or maybe she just couldn't ruin this moment, where after so long he was finally thinking something good of her again.

His eyes lingered on hers for just a moment before moving back to the people in the train.

"I didn't know who you were," she said after a few moments of silence. She didn't know if what she was saying was the right thing or if she should be talking about this at all, but she needed him to know that she hadn't kept that kind of thing from him. Maybe she just needed forgiveness for her actions and her mistakes.

He knew she meant David Webb and the life before it all. He never really expected her to know, not when she was such a small player in the whole thing, right at the bottom of the chain of command, just above the assets.

"They wouldn't let you have access to it."

"I could have easily found out, if I wanted enough, but-" But she didn't want to ruin whatever they had, she didn't want to risk her head.

He interrupted her, the pain and guilt in her voice like a knife thrusting in his chest; there were moments he forgot the reactions he had because of her, how, somehow, she always made him feel more human. "You'd never be able to access the information without bringing serious consequences to yourself." Not to mention he was sure she had more pressing issues to worry about, like her own life for being involved with him.

There was a flutter in her chest, a little bit of the weight she carried around on her shoulders lifting; he didn't blame her and that was something she was going to hold on to.

Their eyes locked and Nicky felt a realization sink in: he was a different person, his eyes were still the same shade of blue, they were softer but the intensity of her reaction to them was still the same; he still looked at her as if he could see right through her soul, even after all they went through, even after all these years.

He looked away, down at his hands. This time they weren't bloody and wounded, but they had the same power, the same ability to destroy. "The more I find out about who I was the more I wonder if it's really worth knowing." He paused as if he needed a moment to gather his thoughts, as if he needed a moment to be certain he wanted to continue. "Something happened to me before, bad enough to make me volunteer to join Treadstone knowing fully well what they did and I'm not sure if I want to know what it is."

His voice was coarse and small, breaking in moments and he was as vulnerable as he had been back in Morocco, in the seedy motel room, sharing his pain and seeking forgiveness for his sins.

It squeezed Nicky's heart seeing him like this, as if his pain was her pain, wanting to comfort him in every possible way and not being able to. So Nicky did the only thing she could think of, the only thing she could do for him right now; she rested her hand on top of his, her fingers closing around his palm, trying to give him comfort the best way she could under the circumstances, wishing she could take his pain away with just a touch.

He was taken by surprised, and looked at her. Her hand was too small on his, too delicate, warm and human and the feeling awakened something inside of him, just like the first time. He turned his hand her own slid into his palm, her fingers almost entwining with his. The feel of her hand in his was familiar; it felt _nice_, as if he had held it a hundred times before. He realized then that he could tell every crease, every line and imperfection apart, as if he knew her as much as he knew himself.

Nicky held her breath, frozen in place, realizing that something was happening with him, between them, and hoping upon hope that _it was it_, the moment, the turning point, that he was remembering something, _anything_.

She wanted to squeeze his hand, to sneak her fingers in between his and hold it tight, but was afraid that any movement would break whatever was happening right then. Then she felt his fingers brushing her palm, following the creases and she to use all her willpower not to grab his hand and pull him towards her.

"Your tickets, please."

Nicky flinched, pulling her hand away as if she had been burned, settling back in her seat with a flush on her cheeks like a child caught doing something she shouldn't. She watched as Jason handed out their tickets and settled back in his own seat, quiet and thoughtful, and sighed, regretting the moment that had just been lost.


End file.
